Waiting to Hope
by Trinity Everett
Summary: He has already lost Johanna and he's in danger of losing Katie, but he will not lose himself too. A post-8x22 ficlet for CastleFanficMonday.


**Waiting to Hope**

 **Post-8x22**

 ** _I've had this in my head since a couple of days after the finale, and I'm happy that I was able to get it out in time for CastleFanficMonday._**

* * *

The moment his phone vibrates in his pocket, breaking the pre-meeting silence, he knows something is wrong. He isn't one to get many calls when he's overseas, and the fact that it's barely eight thirty in New York only cements the dread building in his belly.

"Jim Beckett?"

It's polite, official, and his heart jumps into his throat, strangling his response.

"This is Jim."

"Mr. Beckett, this is Dr. Bird from New York Presbyterian Hospital. You're listed as an emergency contact for Katherine Beckett?"

Oh god, Katie.

"I - yes, I am. But her husband -"

"Is unavailable. Which is why we're calling you. Now, I know this will be tough to hear, but -"

The rest is a blur; he makes every attempt to listen, to understand what this doctor is telling him about his daughter, but the words 'shot' and 'emergency surgery' are enough to drown out everything else. Consent to do whatever they need to do falls out of his mouth without hesitation and the call disconnects long before he registers that the doctor is gone.

His hands tremble as he smooths his palms over his slacks, looking around the empty conference room. This client meeting is important for the firm, but he can't stay any longer. Not with his daughter fighting for her life back in New York and Rick - his son-in-law - _unavailable._

He's been a lawyer long enough to be able to read between the lines. If Rick isn't there to make medical decisions for Katie, then he's in trouble too. There is no way he would be anywhere other than his wife's side if it were possible. Not after everything they had been through in the last few months.

"Jim? What is it?"

Clearing his throat, he lifts his head to find his associate in the doorway to the empty conference room.

"I - I'm sorry, Dan. I need to go. My daughter - the hospital - I need to get back to New York."

Dan nods, stepping forward to help him out of the chair he doesn't even remember collapsing into. "Of course. I'll handle things here and let Stephen know. Take a cab, call the airline, put it on the company card if it gets you the seat."

"Alright. I'll reimburse everything if it comes to that."

"You won't. Go back to the hotel and get what you need, then get out of here."

It isn't until he's in the cab, fidgeting and fighting the urge to ask the driver if it's possible to go _faster_ , that it occurs to him to call Rick's mother. Surely Martha knows _something_. Surely Martha is able to be there while he spends the next nine hours in an airport and crammed onto a plane.

As his finger hovers over her contact information, the woman's photo pops up and the handset buzzes against his palm.

She's calling him.

He doesn't waste time on pleasantries. Rude as it may be, he's sure Martha will forgive his lack of manners.

"Martha, what the hell is happening? How the hell was my daughter shot? And where is Rick?"

"They were both shot, Jim. Kevin and Javier found them at home and they had been - the doctors won't tell me anything about Katherine, but Richard - it may have hit his lung. They're both in surgery, that's all I know." Even the best acting training can't keep the tremor from Martha's voice.

Oh God.

"I'm on my way. I'm in a cab to the airport right now. I'll try to call the doctor, give them permission to give out information when they know something. Just… call me if anything changes, please."

"I will, I will. Be safe."

He hangs up when the cab slows at the curb, waiting until the driver twists in his seat to slip more bills than necessary through the partition, grab his bag, and scoot from the backseat. The money doesn't matter. What matters is he is here, and he will be on the first plane they will allow him to board.

They give him the third degree at Customs, which is unsurprising. He wasn't slated to return to the US for another week; his sudden change of plans and ragged appearance would be enough to raise flags, even for him. Eventually they nod, stamping his passport and waving him through. Similarly, he is taken aside at security, where the agent eyes his counter-printed ticket with suspicion as another agent pats him down and searches his bag before sending him on his way.

A quick stop in the restroom helps him to look more put together, even if he does not feel it in any way. If nothing else, it will keep the crew from deciding to have him escorted from his flight.

There's no news by the time he boards. Martha has been granted permission to know about Katie's condition while he's in the air and potentially unreachable, but the nurse he had spoken to had stressed how critical it was to be patient and wait.

Easy for her to say. Her daughter isn't fighting for her life while another loved one fights for his just down the hall.

Her daughter isn't on an operating table with a bullet in her body for the second time in five years.

The thought alone staggers him, robbing him of his breath. This was supposed to be over; making captain was supposed to keep her safe.

The flight is quiet. He passes the time alternating between checking his cell phone for incoming texts over the Wi-Fi, dreading each buzz against his palm will bring bad news, and rubbing his thumb against the ridges of the 12-year chip that never strays far from his pocket.

He turns away each time the drink cart rolls past him, asking only for water when he has approached.

He has already lost Johanna and he's in danger of losing Katie, but he will not lose himself too.

* * *

The waiting room at New York Presbyterian is exactly what he expects: sterile, cold, and lined with the people who love his daughter and her husband. Martha spots him first, but Rick's daughter is the one whose arms find their way around him.

He isn't particularly close to Alexis Castle, never has been, but as a father he understands the need for comfort.

"Any change?" he croaks, accepting a hug from Rick's mother after Alexis releases him.

"Nothing. We haven't even heard anything since before your plane landed. Not a damn thing."

He nods, turning to find Javier Esposito and Kevin Ryan watching him with anguished eyes.

"Mr. Beckett – Jim –"

He shakes his head, halting Kevin's apology before he even gets it out. "You found them in time, that's what matters. Now tell me what happened."

They open their mouths, sharing a look that he's sure means they're deciding which sanitized, watered-down version of the truth they intend to tell him, but he shakes his head once more.

"Don't. Tell me everything. What was my daughter mixed up in?"

Katie's friends share another look before nodding. "Okay, but… you should sit down for this."

"I've been sitting for the last nine hours, just tell me, please."

They only hesitate for a moment before giving him what they know.

The story sounds fantastical, like it could be the plot of one of his son-in-law's Derrick Storm novels, and if it weren't for their low voices and somber expressions, and the nods of agreement from Martha and Alexis, he might accuse them of making it all up. He doesn't, however; he believes them. Because, finally, the last few months make sense. Katie and Rick's bizarre, abrupt separation after months of (by all accounts) blissful marriage. The heavy, tormented line of his daughter's shoulders. The stress and the guilt that had surrounded them both for so long.

Oh, _Katie_.

It hadn't been her mom's case, the albatross she had carried for so very long, but it had been enough to set her on a similar path.

"And is it over? Now that this man, this 'LokSat,' and his men are dead or in custody? Or will there be someone else coming for them? Some other flunky in the pipeline?"

Martha's hand lands against his arm, dousing the spark of his anger before it can ignite. He settles heavily in a chair, offering Lanie Parish a wan smile that she echoes.

"They'll make it," she offers, her words trembling against her lips. "They're both fighters. They're both too damn stubborn to let this beat them."

Jim nods. "You're right. If they are anything, they are stubborn. Especially my daughter."

"Four years for her to admit she's crazy about that man? While we all watched and knew? That's stubborn."

God help him, he laughs for the first time since this nightmare began. And from the delicate rumble around the room, it seems like everyone else does, too.

It helps. It loosens the band around his chest, reminds him of the joy to be found even on the worst days.

She will be okay. Rick will be okay. No matter how dark things seem to be, this isn't going to end in tragedy.

They just have to hold on.


End file.
